Accepting Denial
by RonsJocks
Summary: It's 7th year and Ron and Hermione are left scared and confused when Harry disappears one night. Far from knowing where or in what condition he is, they not only find comfort in one another's arms but something to take their minds off Harry completely


Disclaimer: Woe is me for I am not J.K Rowling and, therefore, do not own Harry Potter, nor any of her other three children either for that matter

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Accepting Denial

The elaborately decorated wall clock that hung above the Gryffindor common room fireplace struck 10 o'clock. Harry was still not back.

It had been over 12 hours since his patrons had come across them on their way to Transfiguration, 12 hours since they had heard his hurried and somewhat terrifying message...

"Ron. Hermione. I found a new lead but had to leave immediately...there was no time to tell you.

Don't worry though, I'm safe. I don't know when I'll be back...maybe tomorrow. Just keep an eye out for me."

...and now their concern was starting to get the better of them. It had been a shock for Ron to wake up to discover that his best friend was not in the bed beside his. Gone without a word of warning or a simple note for him to cling to. No clue as to where the 'chosen one' could possibly be. And, of course, his first thoughts were of Harry lying face down at the feet of Lord Voldemort, his vacant face devoid of all colour except for the lightening shaped scar which burned red like vibrant paint on a blank canvas. It had taken Hermione 15 minutes to calm him down, even though she was slightly hysterical herself, when he had rushed to her side after sprinting out of bed and into the common room.

The arduous wait which came after the search of the whole of Hogwarts in the hope that Harry had not left the premises, and therefore could not possibly be lying dead in some ditch, was tormenting, even after seeing the Head Mistress, whom was not able to calm their nerves in the slightest. She told them to stay rational and to stop thinking pessimistically whilst continuing to hyperventilate into a brown paper bad she had conjured out of thin air at the news. So, instead, of panicking and creating a scene that would surely put the rest of the school on edge too, they went to breakfast just as normal (although in her haste to get her hands on a copy of The Daily Prophet she unfortunately knocked several people on the backsides), followed by attending classes just as if Harry was standing beside them (Hermione drew the line when Ron attempted to talk to their imaginary Harry, though). And it's not like Harry hadn't done this before. No, he was regularly in and out of the castle, always off somewhere in search of Voldemort's downfall. It's just that Ron and Hermione had always gone with him. He needed them. They were his seconds'.

When they had finally received Harry's message, they were able to breath again, returning to their normal colouring. But that feeling of ease only lasted for Transfiguration, for as soon as they entered History of Magic and were able to let their minds wander from the secure walls that held the notion that Harry was safe and had not been snatched out of his bed in the middle of the night by his arch enemy to more dangerous thoughts such as their best friend falling after sending his patronus to them.

Ron and Hermine tried to assure one another that Harry was unharmed and intact and possibly had found and destroyed one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, but it wasn't enough. They only had each other and as neither of them were positive of anything, were, therefore, in no need to deal out consolation.

So as the elaborately decorate wall clock that hung above the Gryffindor common room fire place struck 10 o'clock the best friends of Harry Potter were seated in the crowded room, among other students whom had no idea that the soon to be saviour of the whole wizarding world could, currently, be gone for ever. The mood around them was happy and carefree; a mood that the two could no longer be included in, that they couldn't even feign any more. Cheerfulness went when they started their search, leaving in it's place melancholy and fear to assemble with their courage and determination.

Right now fear was over-riding all other emotions. It had imprisoned them within their own suggestive thoughts, coercing out all rational thinking and intensifying, with every passing minute, that Harry had not returned or contacted them. But it would not be long now, one way or another.

Hermione looked up at Ron. She saw a pale young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and knew that his face was only a reflection of her own. She couldn't take it anymore. It had been too long, surely Harry would be back by now? She wanted to scream and lose all her self-control, the silence was only feeding the fear. But when she tried to speak, the only sound that issued was an inaudible whisper.

Ron heard her though. He heard her even when she didn't say a word. He picked up her hand from the page in the book she had been trying to escape into and folded his own around it. What else could he do? He was just as unsure of Harry's location and life status as she was, but he needed to protect her somehow. He had never seen her look so lost and alone before; maybe all she needed was to know that he was there with her and always would be. Ron was sure he could do that.

Over the next hour the rest of the Gryffindor students slowly trickled to their respected dormitories, calling out tired but cheerful goodnights to others who were left behind, till only Hermione and Ron were among the six or so remaining Gryffindors sitting up late. Not that they really noticed the actual time, only the concept that too much of it had passed since Harry had gone.

"I going to bed now," said Hermione suddenly, jumping up as if she had been scorched.

Ron nodded without looking at her. "I guess I will too then."

Once in the comfort of her bed, Hermione wished she was back on the lounge with Ron, with him gently caressing the back of her hand with his rough thumb. A solitary tear slid down her face. She closed her eyes in the attempt to sleep, but that only resulted in realistic images of Harry's corpse flashing before her eyelids. She had never felt so isolated in her life. Yes, she could hear the harmonious breathing of Lavender and Parvati who were lost in peaceful, uninterrupted sleep just as she had for the last six and a half years, but it didn't console her in the least. What an idiot she was to think that a good nights rest would solve all her problems, to think that Harry would be back and everything would be fine when she woke up the next morning. She shivered. There was no way she would be able to get to sleep tonight.

Silently, Hermione crept out of her bed and made her way out of the moon-lit room, into the cold stairwell. There was only one place where she would truly feel safe.

"Ron?" She whispered, peering into the cocoon that was his four-poster. There was no reply.

She gently sat next to his sleeping form and placed her hand on his bare shoulder, nudging him slightly. "Ron?"

He awoke with a start, like he had just been resuscitated, leaving him short of breath and making Hermione jump back.

"Hermione? What wrong?" He asked her, getting over the initial shock of her being there.

"Nothing." She looked down at her hands.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. "Then why aren't you in bed?"

Her eyes met with his own. "I just don't want to be alone tonight," she told him without any inhibitions. If Ron couldn't handle her when she was at her most needy then no-one possibly could.

"Alright," he whispered with a smile of understanding, "Hop in," and he lifted up the blanket for her to slide under. She thanked him with a slight peck on the cheek before burrowing into the mold of his warm body and sighing contently; this is what she needed. Ron's arm snaked around her middle, closing whatever proximity was left between them: her back to his chest, her legs following the contours of his and his chin resting on the top of her head.

Hermione closed her eyes and rejoiced when all she could see was Ron with his arms around her and not a dead Harry. She breathed in his scent like it was a drug that she couldn't get enough of and suddenly Harry's disappearance was no longer an issue; the boy who lived could surely look after himself.

Without noticing their breathing became insink; slow and steady, in and out, and Hermione finally began to drift off to sleep.

She had barely gotten there when she felt the definite poke of her best friends arousal on her backside and heard a loud curse. She could of laughed out loud had she not known that there were three others occupying the dormitory. And she didn't want to embarrass him anymore then she could tell he already was.

Ron quickly turned away from her and Hermione knew his face was bright red.

"Ron?" She asked quietly into the darkness. She felt, rather than saw him sit up and drape his legs over the side of the bed. He swore again.

"Ron."

"I have to go," he replied crisply. But before he could stand and make his get away, she grabbed his arm and pulled it slightly.

"Don't go," Hermione mumbled.

"'Mione," he rushed, "please don't do this." He tried to pull his arm out of her surprisingly strong grasp, but to no avail. Then she followed suit and sat up before leaning over to him and whispering in his flaming ear "trust me, Ron."

He sighed in exasperation but yielded and allowed himself to be dragged down on to the awaiting bed, flat on his back, while Hermione positioned herself so she was lying over his shoulder and half of his chest. She then took his arm, which sat beneath her, and wrapped it around her waist, all the while avoiding eye contact with him, knowing that it would only make it all the more embarrassing for both of them. Also, just to be on the safe side, Hermione cast a spell around Ron's bed which blocked off all sounds to the world outside of the crimson drapery; this was something she did not want to be overheard doing.

Timidly, she brushed her fingers over Ron's bare stomach, close to were his pyjama pants begun. She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his chest rise with it, and took it as a sign to continue. Her trembling fingers slowly took hold of the drawstrings on his pants and pulled so the bow he had tied in them fell away, loosening the tight hold they had on Ron's waist. Still, Ron said nothing.

Taking it slowly, she slid her hand down, over his stomach and pelvis, into his pants, feeling his heartbeat rising rapidly beneath her shoulder. When she finally reached his arousal, and ran her fingers along his shaft, his heartbeat could of rivaled that of someone who had just run a marathon.

"'Mione?" Ron said breathlessly.

"Shhhhhhh..."

Hermione felt exhilarated. She had never done anything like this in her life, something so wanton, but, right now, it seemed the appropriate thing to do; at least it took both their minds off what Harry was doing. Perhaps now Ron would know how she truly felt about him, without her having to go through the whole unwanted situation of telling him face to face.

Ron moaned as Hermione folded her warm hand around his manhood and sheepishly began to gently tug. As Ron's breathing became more rugged, her hand movements became faster and rougher and before long she noticed his calloused hand, which had been rubbing her stomach, slide up, under her singlet, to her braless breasts, massaging in rhythm with her own strokes.

Sweat was running off both of their bodies as the temperature felt as though it reached boiling point and their quickened heartbeats beat simultaneously, with Hermione cooing at Ron's touch and Ron moaning into the pillow he held over his face.

Just as it had started, the experience ended as, shuddering, Ron called out Hermione's name in pure ecstasy and erupted over her hand.

Smiling to herself, Hermione removed her hand from his pants before wiping it on one of the curtains beside his bed and turning to look him right in his cool blue eyes. Ron's breathing was just returning to normal as she brought her quivering lips to his in a delicate kiss which was more intimate than anything that had just happened between them.

When the kiss ended, Hermione found herself lying with her head on Ron's chest, which was damp with his now cold sweat, breathing in his appealing scent in abundance and feeling content and relieved and happy and extremely tired all at once. She closed her eyes, never wanting this moment to end.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice came after a second.

Hermione could of screamed. Why was he killing this beautiful silence? "Don't ruin it Ron," she said gently, still with eyes closed and head down.

"Bu..."

"No"

She felt, as well as, heard his sigh, as he admitted defeat. Pulling the blanket up to her waist he wrapped his long arms around Hermione's slender form, hugging her tightly to his chest and kissed the top of her head. She had never been more comfortable in her life.

A red haze pierced through Ron's eyelids, from the sunlight filtering through his bed curtains, when he awoke the next morning. He almost swore out loud, believing that Hermione was still curled up in his arms, and at anytime they could be sprung by their fellow Gryffindors. It took him a few moment to realise that she wasn't there and began to wonder if she had visited him at all. Desperately, he searched over his bed, looking for anything that could possibly tell him if it had at all been real, and not just an elaborate dream. Faintly but surely, he caught a whiff of the shampoo Hermione used but wasn't completely convinced it meant what he wanted it to mean.

He lay in bed, pondering what had happened, why it had happened, if it actually did happen. Ron groaned in frustration as he recounted what Hermione had done to him only a few hours before hand. Surely Hermione would never had done something so reckless, not Miss 'never stray from the rules unless it's a life or death situation and even then it has to be someone important or do anything spontaneously, ever' Granger. Yes, it must have all been a figment of his imagination, but more than anything else in the world he wished it to be real.

His eyes zoned into her straight away once he was dressed and down in the common room. She was sitting with her chin resting on her knees which had been drawn up to her chest on a day bed that had been pushed up against a wide window. Her eyes had a far-away look about them as she stared out to the horizon over the Forbidden Forest, they held concern and what Ron could only describe as a sense of longing. What they did not hold, was any hint as to whether she had really visited him last night. Ron was hesitant to approach her. He daren't mention what he thought had happened between them but needed to know if it was not just his imagination like all the other times but even with his past fantasies and dreams that involved her, there was always that give away that that was all it was, a dream.

Losing all his nerves he made to walk away from her when she turned her head and their eyes met.

"Ron," she said, smiling as though she had just stepped out of a dark, oppressing room into the warmth of a bright, sunny day. He grinned sheepishly back at her, trying to not show any of the real emotions he was possessing, as he sat down beside her with his hands tucked into his pockets in a gesture of aloofness.

Hermione looked up at him with big puppy dog eyes and asked, "Is he back yet?" Ron wondered what she was talking about, could he still be dreaming? He was about to ask who and look like a big prat when it clicked -Harry had still not returned from his mission. His mind had been to preoccupied with thoughts of one best friend to consider his other best friend. Where was Harry? When would he be back? Why had he not tried to contact us again? Was he hurt or in danger or...dead?

Slowly he shook his head, his gaze fixed on the ground and an overwhelming sense of guilt taking over his other presiding emotions. He heard Hermione sigh to his left and drop her feet beside his.

"I'm sure he's fine, Ron."

"Yeah..."

"Best not to worry about it," Hermione said and thoughtfully patted him on the thigh, making the muscles beneath her hand tense. He felt his ears turn red. How could he be thinking such improper thoughts when he was suppose to be thinking about whether Harry was alive or not. But then again he had not thought about his best friend once last night.

Hermione sighed again and, with her hand still on Ron's thigh, pushed herself up, "Come on, let's go to breakfast." She had already taken a few steps forward when Ron called out her name.

She turned back to him, expectantly. Ron took a deep breath but found himself speechless, how could he ask her if everything that had happened was real with out giving away his feelings?

"Ummm..."

"Yeah?"

"Well...I...Did...We...Damn it!" He growled in annoyance. Why had he even bothered trying to bring it up?_ Because you need to know_.

"Ron, you know you can tell me anything," Hermione said, sitting down again, her voice full of concern. If Ron had looked up at her he would of seen the amusement in her eyes that could of put his mind to rest. Of course, because he was Ron, he did not, he knew, without hesitation that Hermione would have been able to read him like a book through his own betraying eyes. So Ron resisted the temptation to look up. He just shook his head again, saying, "Don't worry, it's nothing."

Then he abruptly stood up, before Hermione could get a word in, saying something about going to breakfast and hurrying towards the Fat Lady's portrait.

Once he was out, Ron stopped and rested against a wall, waiting for his breathing to return to an even pace. He had never felt more confused in his life. There was no delicate way around this situation and he did not have the nerve to come straight out and ask her if all the intimacy had been real? And then there was Harry's disappearance looming over him. He did not know what to think anymore and wanted it all to just stop.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the entrance to the Gryffindor common room swing forward and a figure emerge out of it. He couldn't have cared less about this mystery person, continuing to look at his feet in an attempt to seem inconspicuous, until the person's own feet came into his line of vision and a familiar scent filled his nostrils. He slowly looked up, past the ankles, knees, thighs, waist, stomach, breasts, and neck, before, finally, resting on the young womens face., even though he had know all along it was Hermione.

Gazing into her chestnut brown eyes, he remembered the passion he had seen in them last night and felt like crying because he knew, with his luck, it had all been a dream. He also knew that his own blue eyes were expressing his sorrow to her, and he didn't like that one bit because it meant she had access to what he was feeling, like she was inside his head.

He wanted so much to look away, to escape from Hermione's scrutiny, but, for all he tried, he could not bring himself to drop eye contact and the longer he did it the harder it became. He felt her warm fingers brush over his chin and then a shiver down his spin. What was she doing? Had his dream been more of a premonition of what was to come? All these questions he wanted answered but, for the life of him, couldn't ask.

Gryffindors heading off to breakfast, walked noisily past the two friends but neither of them noticed, so interlocked with one another's presence that the world could of crumpled around them and all they would of noticed was the intense details of each other eyes.

Ron knew that Hermione was trying to tell him something, silently, with just one expression. Of course, Ron did not understand, he never did, and it was slightly presumptuous of Hermione to think he would. Surprisingly, at that moment, she groaned in frustration and broke their unrelenting stare, allowing Ron to blink profusely and take a much needed breath, before she stole his attention once more by pressing her lips against his in the same tender way as she had last night and it finally clicked.

Ron smiled, as Hermione pulled away and opened her eyes. There was no way that he could of dreamed up a kiss that perfect, so that meant it all had to be real...everything, Hermione's coming to his dormitory, his own embarrassing, not to mention unwelcome, surprise, Hermione's hypersensitive, womanish touch and a relief he had never know before, but ached for even now.

He wanted to tell her everything but didn't know where to start, so he opened his mouth to say the first think he thought of.

"I lo..."

But he couldn't even get that out as Hermione shouted out for him to stop, that she didn't want to hear it, and ran away, her robes flying out behind her.

He thought he had finally understood, that finally all the pieces had fallen into place and it all meant that Hermione felt the same way about him as he did her. Now, the euphoria he had felt in those few precious seconds disappeared and he was left with an emptiness in the pit of his stomach, making him feel physically sick. He was torn between drowning himself in his own sorrow and chasing after her to know once and for all what it all meant. He didn't even think it possible that his life could become more complicated then it had been fifteen minutes previous, but here was genuine evidence, Hermione had ultimately blow his mind, for the second time in the past ten hours, unfortunately in a less satisfying way then the first.

Conclusively coming to a decision, Ron hesitantly made his way down a flight of stairs in the direction Hermione had escaped into. With every step the mundanes clogging up his mind disintegrated, leaving only the need for him to know exactly how she felt towards him and he sped up, until he was running flat out in the hope he would catch up with her.

He glanced through every room as he passed them, mentally sensing whether Hermione was in them rather than seeing her. Seventh floor: nothing; sixth floor: nothing; fifth, fourth, third floor: nothing. Ron was beginning to doubt she was in the castle at all, and when he asked it seemed no one had seen her. When he had finally reached the great hall after the umpteenth deserted classroom, he knew at once she was not there, not when she was so upset. On turning to go out of the hall, he was in too much of a rush to look where he was going and collided with something and found himself on the floor.

"Bloody hell, Ron. What's the hurry?" a smiling Harry asked from the floor beside him.

Ron let out a loud profanity. "Harry, your back. Have you seen Hermione?" He asked his best friend as he picked himself up and extended a hand to help Harry up.

Concern spread over Harry's face. "No, why? What's happened?"

"It's a long story and I'll tell you later, but right now I have to find her. I've looked everywhere, though. Where do you think she would go to cry?"

"What did you do to her?" Harry asked him, slightly shocked that he had come back to find his friends in such a state. "Did you check the Room of Requirements?"

It was as if a light had been switched on in Ron's head, because his face instantly lit up and he, again, rushed off in search of Hermione, leaving behind a confused Harry.

Ron reached the seventh floor, where the Room of Requirements was, in no time at all and before he could say 'I need a place where Hermione would go to be upset' three times, the familiar door appeared. He stopped his pacing straight away, but did not attempt to let himself into the room. All the doubts, which had clouded his mind before he had started the chase, returned. Had he done the right thing in going after her? Was he being selfish in his need to know how she felt about him? What did it matter if he was? He was pretty sure Hermione hated him at the present moment.

Making up his mind, Ron took hold of the handle and pushed the door open, wincing as it's hinges creaked, announcing his arrival. As he looked inside his eyes were flooded with a dull green glow, and his ears with the tranquil sound of a tinkling fall of water. Once he had stepped inside and adjusted to the light, he glanced around, finding himself in a forest clearing.

Hermione was sitting beside a small waterfall, swirling her fingers in the sparkling water where her reflection swam. Her face was void of any emotion, giving Ron nothing to work off except for the knowledge that he had done something to offend her. She didn't even look up when he entered, despite the fact that he knew she was aware he was there, fueling the anger Ron had not noticed he was harbouring.

He waited, silently watching her from across the clearing with a grimace growing on his face and his hands clenched into tight fists by his sides. How could she be so composed? Despite her calm and collected exterior, though, Ron was positive that something was eating her up in the inside; he could almost see the cogs turning in her brain as she thought over whatever, exactly, was troubling her.

He was just arguing to himself about what he should say to her when her aloof tone interrupted his rambling.

"Are you just going to stand there looking like an idiot or actually say something to me?"

"What?" Ron exploded, once he had gotten over the initial shock of her intrusion. "What about you? Are you going to stop acting like I'm not even here?"

"I didn't ask you to follow me, Ron," Hermione replied lightly, not bothering to look at him.

Ron felt like screaming at her. Why was she acting this way?. "You didn't need to," he told her just as softly, but with a slight edge to his voice.

Minutes passed in which time they said nothing to one another, the only sound being the gentle bubbling of the water and the distant calls of unseen creatures. Ron couldn't take it any more; he was sick of the tranquillity of the environment around him when, inside, he was drowning in the turmoil that had been hitting him over and over again, like a successions of fierce tidal waves, since Harry's disappearance.

"Would you at least look at me Hermione?" He bellowed at her, giving in to his emotions.

Hermione began to shake her head in defiance, but with every shake Ron took a step forward and, without realising it, soon found himself standing above her.

"Look at me," he softly demanded.

"No." Hermione's voice was barely a whisper but that didn't defer the fury he heard in it.

"Please?"

He saw her shoulders droop in defeat, before she turned her face in his direction.

"What do you want Ron?"

"I want to know why?" He replied simply.

Hermione hesitated, then said ignorantly "why what?"

"Why everything Hermione," Ron rushed. "Why did you run away? Why did you kiss me? Why did you do what you did last night?" He stopped and sighed, knowing full well that his face was that embarrassing beetroot colour. "Why are you angry at me?" He added more gently.

Hermione stood up in a huff. "Fine I'll tell you," she screamed at him. "I ran away cause I didn't want to hear what you had to say. I kissed you because I wanted you to know that what happened last night wasn't a dream and I did that because it just seemed the right thing to do at the time." She finished, breathing heavily and glaring him straight in the eyes.

Strike one. Ron face contorted in disgust. "What do you mean it was the right thing to do?" he whispered, threateningly.

"Well it was my fault it happened in the first place. And I didn't want you to feel embarrassed."

"So, What? You felt it was your obligation or something?" Ron asked her as he took a step back.

Hermione frowned. "No, it wasn't like that."

"Then tell me what it was like," he roared.

She opened her mouth to reply but Ron cut her off, "Would you do that to any guy you slipped into bed with?"

"Of course not," she tried again.

"Then why me?"

Hermione was silent. Ron stood looking at her as though he didn't really know her, like the last six and a half years never happened. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around him again, only this time finding no trees or other forest scenery, but an empty room with bright red drapery covering all the four walls, reflecting his current mood.

He lowered his voice and attempted to stop it shaking, "Would you do that to someone who you didn't love?"

Again she didn't say anything. Instead she turned away from him and with the slightest motion of her head, answered his question.

"Are you saying you love me then?" Ron said, starring at the back of her head. "Hermione?"

"Please don't do this Ron." She whispered, her voice on the verge of tears.

He took a few steps closer, until he was only half a metre away from her. "Do what?"

Suddenly, Hermione swung around and pushed him hard on the chest, making him fall onto his backside. "The whole love thing, okay?" She yelled down at him. "I already told you I didn't want to hear it and there is no way in hell that I am going to say it, so don't even try." The whole room felt like it was shaking. The curtains fluttered wildly and the candelabra hanging from the ceiling, rocked threateningly above them. Ron hesitated standing back up, incase Hermione felt the need to push him to the ground again. He was confused, he didn't understand what Hermione was saying at all.

"Why?" He asked her timidly.

Hermione sunk on to the floor beside him, her head in her hands covering the tears that were sprouting from her eyes. The room, again, stood stationary. "Because if we don't say it then it doesn't exist."

Whether she had intended to be harsh or not that was strike two. But Ron pulled her over to him, like her comment wasn't tormenting to him. "'Mione it's doesn't work like that."

Hermione slowly dragged herself away again, starring up at him the whole time. "We're in the middle or a war, Ron," she said. "Don't you see that if we don't confess how we feel about one another then it's easy to deny those feelings ever existed. I can't die knowing that I have left you behind with a broken heart, nor could I watch you die because my own heart would break. If we admit it Ron, we could never take it back, and then we would never be able to live without one another."

"Neither of us is going to die Hermione," Ron replied as though that ended the subject, his voice feigning the Gryffindor courage he was no where near having.

"You have no way of knowing that," she said softly.

Ron was left speechless. He knew she was right about the possibility of them not coming out alive in the fight against Lord Voldemort, but surely she didn't mean what she was saying about everything else. Love will always be there if we say it is or not, just lying under the surface manifesting and growing until it just get to a point where it is unable to be contained and escapes out into the world, in unexpected ways and forms.

He watched her wipe away the tears that had not had the chance to fall from her eyes, feeling slightly annoyed that she believed all that nonsense. "Haven't you ever heard that it is better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all?" He said picking himself up off the floor and starring at her as though she was ignorant.

"Of course I have," Hermione replied shortly. Ron looked at her expectantly. "But I don't believe it."

"Why not?" Ron snorted, offering her his hand and pulling her to her feet.

"I think I've already adequately explained my views," she said in agitated politeness. "Now, if you would kindly let go of my arm, I've already missed one class."

Ron didn't let her go, instead pulled her closer to him. "Ronald, please," Hermione tried again.

"If I am to agree with you," he whispered directly into her ear, "and believe that there is nothing between us for as long as it takes for this war to end, knowing full well that it could be years, then I want something to tide me over until then. You've giving me a taste of what I'm not allowed to have and now I want more."

Hermione shivered as Ron's warm breath tickled her neck. "What do you want?" she asked him, in an unintentionally seductive manner.

"A kiss."

"A kiss?"

Ron turned her around so they were face to face. "Just one kiss," he said drawing each word out as though they were his last.

"Then you'll leave me alone?"

Ron nodded. "For as long as you want."

Hermione sighed in exasperation, before smiling and saying "you had better make it a good one then."

He took it slow. First, brushing her fly away hair out of her face and delicately running his thumb over her quivering lips, whilst allowing himself to get lost in her sparkling eyes, before moving his head down to shower her jaw line with tiny kisses. Drawing her head up, he followed the contour of her neck down to where her throat ended, and back up the other side breathing in her sultry scent as he went.

It seemed like ages before he reached her lips, but when he did it was oh so soft, it was possible their lips didn't meet at all. Several times, Hermione tried to capture his mouth with her own, a raw desire urging her on, but Ron would just retreat a little bit tempting her even more, until he gave in and crashed his lips against hers, in feverish need.

Hermione moaned from deep in her throat and parted her lips to allow Ron access, to which he gladly accepted. The kiss deepened even further as their tongues gently mingled together and there hands began to wander.

Slowly but determinedly, with hands on her curvy hips, Ron gently began coaxing her backwards, until he reached the wall and pushed her back up against it. Without hesitation, Hermione flung her legs around Ron's waist, drawing him in as close as they could possibly be and whimpering when his lips left hers. He smiled, basking in the glory of how strongly he could affect her.

Not wanting to displease her any longer, Ron quickly lavished his attention upon her neck and throat, leaving Hermione with staggered breath and lines of hot kisses everywhere he went. It wasn't long though, before she aggressively pulled him back up to her swollen mouth, hungry for the feel of his lips against her own. Who was Ron to deny her?

It was when she started to grind her hips against his, that he thought he could, and should, get the ball into his own court, send her striking out just as she had done to him. He slowly, and dangerously, ran his hands under her skirt, along her smooth thighs, over and over again until she was moaning in anticipation and clearly ready for anything. Then, ever so seductively, he let his fingers lurk just under the edges of her panties, not going far enough in to please her but enough to drive her wild with the promise of what it all meant. And when she started to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt, he knew that he held the upper hand over her.

Deepening the kiss for a distraction, he reached behind him to where Hermione had her ankles crossed and eased them apart, stepping back without breaking the connection and letting her legs fall to the ground.

Hermione whimpered, trying to drag him back against her body but Ron stood his ground, ending the kiss and standing back to admire his handy work. Hermione looked as if she had been in a muggle fight. Her hair, which had been in a bun, had half fallen out of it's restraint and was now framing her offended face and her cloths were all tousled and wrinkled. Her breathing was harsh and uneven through her swollen, red lips and her sparkling eyes told him she was not at all happy that it had stopped.

"So our abstinence begins now," said Ron arrogantly, trying to hide a cocky smile.

Hermione couldn't speak, much to Ron's glee, but continued to stare at him in disbelief.

"That's what you want, isn't it Hermione?" He asked her in the same egotistical manner.

"You're an arsehole."

"That's a bit hypocritical, coming from you?" Ron loved pushing her buttons and right now he couldn't think of anything else that could make him happier than seeing her all hotheaded and enraged.

Unfortunately though, things did not go the way he wanted them to as Hermione smiled sweetly up at him and said "You're absolutely right Ron, nothing is going to happen between us until after the war ends. But." -Ron cringed at this point, making Hermione smile like the kneazle that caught the golden snidget, "Our abstinence towards one another, is just that. We can do anything we want with anyone else."

Strike 3. That had been a low shot and Ron could fell the effect of what she had said twisting his gut, giving him the urge to throw up. But Hermione didn't stop there.

"You know, I think George has always had a thing for me. Do you think he'd be up for it?"

If Ron hadn't know her better, he would have taken what she was saying to heart, not that the idea of her doing such things didn't kill him, and really gone off the rail. As it was, he knew Hermione was only telling him these things as revenge for what he had, or more likely hadn't, done to her just moment before.

"Why George, Hermione? Can't get off with someone who doesn't look almost exactly like me?" He asked her, trying to laugh off what she was saying like it wasn't ripping him up inside.

Hermione had backed herself into a corner and did not look at all happy about it. When she didn't answer him, Ron took it to mean that he had won that round and, knowing that he had, wanted to end things on his own terms.

"Now, if you've gotten over your little cry," he told her gently, not wanting her to get all defensive again, "I suggest we go back to the original plan, back to the way you want it to be. Which is we keep on being best friends and nothing else, okay?"

Hermione, embarrassed at her ridiculous statements, merely nodded and allowed herself to be drawn into Ron's embrace, like she was a small child who had just been scolded for doing something naughty.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way," she whispered into his collar.

Ron pulled her away from his chest and smiled down upon her teary-eyed face. "Hermione, I will wait for as long as you ask me to," he said with a laugh. "It'll be hard but I'll cope somehow, and you will too. Anyway I'm sure we will be too busy with all the Horcruxes stuff to even think about one another. I guess it's a good thing that Harry is back in more was than one."

Hermione squealed and jumped out of his arms. "Harry is back? Oh my, I forgot all about him. I am a horrible person, forgetting all about my best friend. Is he alright? Did you see him? Where is he now?" she said in an almost incoherent rush.

Ron laughed again, glad to see Hermione back to her old self once more, before picking her up off the ground completely and swinging her around until she was laughing right along with him. When he finally lowered her back to earth, he didn't hesitate in grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the room of requirements behind him.

Hermione followed Ron every step of the way, past the moving tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his ballerina trolls and the statue of Lachlan the lanky, into the Gryffindor common room and Ron's and Harry's dormitory, then out again. They broke into a trot as they hurried down the stairs leading to the sixth and fifth floors, then began running once they reached the library. The duo only stopped once they found themselves at the Great Hall, but only for a minute once they realised it was not where they wanted to be. The next stop on their agenda (Merlin forbid) was the hospital wing, where they finally found what they were looking for.

Harry was sitting on one of the beds letting Madam Pomfrey tend to a deep, not to mention bloody, gash on his shoulder. He smiled when his two best friends burst through the double doors and came to a halt at the foot of the bed he was perched on, breathing heavily and clutching the stitches in their sides, but grinning as though they were having the time of their lives.

"I hope you two didn't get into to much trouble while I was gone," he asked them, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

Ron and Hermione merely glanced at each other, before turning back to Harry and replying in the most honest tone of voice they could muster...

"No."

"Not at all."

* * *

Well, that , children, was my very first FanFiction. What a delight it is to see it up, for it did take longer to write then I first anticipated. You see I wasoriginally only going for a3000 word story -HA, what a fool I was.Reviews are, of course, welcome as is critism of the constructive variety. But, for know, I will be on my way, do not fear thoughfor we shall soonmeet again. Farewell.


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